


Ordained

by Saber_Wing



Series: Reaper of Souls [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark!Regis, I hate myself a bit, Tragedy, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: "Take your pound of flesh, reaper of souls. You can have me, but you won't have him.”Whumptober - Day 4: 'No, Stop!'





	Ordained

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as the Betrayed prompt. It isn't now. 
> 
> Also, I actually am sorry.

"No."

Regis Lucis Caelum held his child closer, hiding him beneath the folds of his raiment. A specter of the Draconian hovered before them, bathed in the Crystal's light.

The armored knight repeated himself, tone harsh and unforgiving, burning like coals inside Regis' head.

"It is ordained."

Noctis stirred in his arms, mumbling into the fabric of his shirt. The child burrowed closer, but did not wake, content to lie unmolested in his father's arms. This little boy trusted his father implicitly, the way only children could. He didn't think for a second Regis would barter his life away. Commit him to a fate he had no choice in.

Bahamut moved a step toward them, reaching out with a gauntlet-clad hand.

Regis turned, pulling Noctis out of reach. Suddenly, he didn't care about the hundreds of Kings and Queens who had sacrificed themselves for the Crystal. He didn't care how many thousands of years they'd waited for the Chosen.

" _No_."

Bahamut seemed almost amused. He tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable beneath his helm. "This is not a negotiation, young king. This child is the King of Light."

And Regis knew those words held weight. He knew what being a Lucis Caelum meant. Their family existed to safeguard the Crystal: ensure it remained unmolested until it could be used to purge their star of its scourge. No Caelum had questioned it for hundreds of years. Regis certainly hadn't.

It seemed such a far-off thing, when he was a child. Routine, in all of its tragedy. King Mors would die and Regis would take up his mantle, as every ruler before him. He would fight back the hordes of darkness for a few decades, and the cycle would begin anew. It would rise on a new rule, Noct's rule, and they would bide their time. Wait another hundred lifetimes.

It was a prophecy, for heaven's sake – far in the future, and Regis would never have to make that decision. He would never have to choose between two-thousand years of tradition and his own son. He would never have to put the fate of millions over a child he'd  _sacrifice_ millions for.

That prophecy couldn't be staring him in the face. It couldn't be reaching for his five-year-old with a gauntlet-clad hand, and cold, timeless eyes.

"No. Stop."

The Draconian's words were hard, but not unkind when he spoke. He dropped his hand, considering Regis with something that almost approached compassion. "The King of Kings will do what he must. As will you."

"No." Regis heard his voice crack. He didn't care. He swept Noctis deeper into his embrace, arms shielding him. " _Please."_

The Draconian stood motionless – studying Regis, with those bottomless eyes. "It is ordained."

Suddenly, Regis wasn't just devastated: he was _angry_. He tightened his grip on Noct unconsciously, who moaned, squirming in his arms. Regis jolted, hushing him as he kissed the crown of his head.

When he raised his gaze to meet Bahamut's, his eyes were wild, filled with tears. "We've protected the Crystal. Allowed the Six to scrape, hide, and consolidate their power. We've sacrificed our lives, our  _children,_ for thousands of years! And still, you remain unsatisfied?"

Bahamut stood implacable, unmoved. "It is not enough. One more life must be claimed by the Ring of Lucii. The King of Kings-"

"I'll be your  _damned_  King of Kings!" The words ripped out of him before Regis could stop them. "Take your pound of flesh, reaper of souls. You can have me, but you won't have him."

The corners of the Draconian's lips tilted upward: enough to chill Regis to the bone. "You've little choice."

Bahamut inclined his head. Regis could do little but watch in stunned silence as the God dipped into a bow: low, not at all mocking. He disappeared in exploding fractals of light, leaving Regis standing in the Crystal chamber alone. Trembling. Clutching the five-year-old Chosen King against him, like a lifeline.

"We are not finished here, damn you!" Regis screamed.

Bahamut's reply was nothing but an empty echo, bouncing around the Crystal chamber. His chest felt as hollow as the Draconian's eyes had been, and he wanted to bellow his rage to the sky.

Noctis rubbed his eyes, lip quivering. Apparently, he'd finally been roused by all the fuss.

Regis would do anything to stop that quiver. To put a smile on his face, and keep it there forever. To give him a choice, no matter what he had to sacrifice to do it.

No matter what.

"Papa?"

Regis took a shaky breath. Prayed his child couldn't see the fear in his eyes, or the tremble in his lips. "I'm sorry, little love. Everything's all right." He caressed Noct's cheek, magic glowing at his fingertips. "Go back to sleep."

This couldn't be it. There  _had_ to be a choice. A chance, however small.

Regis couldn't rest until he'd found it.

The Lucii clamored at him: dozens of souls, begging to be heard, murmuring disapprovingly inside his head. Regis ignored them.  _They_ weren't the ones whose child the Crystal had chosen.  _They_  weren't the ones raising a lamb up for slaughter.

Regis would ravage the world if he had to, but he wouldn't sacrifice Noctis. His little star, in a sky so blackened by night. He couldn't.

The Draconian had said one more life must be claimed by the Ring.

Did it  _have_  to be a Caelum's?

A helpless whimper escaped his lips, and Regis covered his mouth, horrified. The idea he found himself entertaining now was ludicrous. If such a plan ever came to fruition, the Accursed would have nothing on Regis. Even just the thought made him sick.

But what if it  _worked?_

Bahamut was right. Regis Lucis Caelum would do what he must.

He fell to his knees, and wept.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be a companion piece to this. Stay tuned?


End file.
